


Forging the Broadsword

by zenzenshima



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:27:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29351184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenzenshima/pseuds/zenzenshima
Summary: “Yes, it’s true. The Gunsmith is building a prototype.  And I can see the lot of you salivating at the chance to wield it.  I can think of only one way to choose who deserves that opportunity.” — Lord Shaxx, “Forging the Broadsword”
Relationships: Banshee-44/Cayde-6 (Destiny)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

Cayde-6 lay sprawled on his back on the floor of Banshee-44’s kiosk.His boots, crossed at the ankles, were propped up on a boxful of recycled parts.Banshee faced the busy Courtyard, hunched over his desk as usual.The two Exos shared a comfortable silence while methodically cleaning their gun loadout.The active Crucible match buzzed noisily from the feed screen nearest to Banshee.

Cayde stuck his hand out within Banshee’s peripheral vision, grazing his ankles, to signal he was ready to borrow the bore brush.Banshee may not often recall the last person he spoke with, but he had no issue tracking the maintenance state of all guns within a 500 meter radius.He’d normally toss the next tool Cayde needed and swiftly context-switch back to his own project.

Normally.Huh?Cayde snapped his wrist urgently.Maybe Banshee just missed the first cue. His hand remained empty of any tool.

Cayde rested his Ace on his chest and looked upwards.“Yo, Bansh.”Banshee ignored him, arms crossed and staring at the Crucible game.Cayde studied the worn jut of Banshee’s jaw above that ratty green scarf, then tried again.“Baaansheeeeee. Bore brush pleeeeease.”

Like pinging a dead feed.Cayde sat up on his elbows to get a better look at the screen stealing his friend.

The match was explosive.The motion-based camera feeds were tagged onto the movements of the winning fireteam- two Titans and a Hunter - and rarely maintained a shot for longer than two seconds.The Guardians were blurred flashes, navigating quickly between available cover and the smoke from enemy projectiles.Surprisingly fast for those Exo Titans, Cayde mused.Shaxx was shouting incoherently over all of it as usual.The thrill in his voice matched the violence in the arena.

“They’re all over the place,” Cayde offered.Banshee finally acknowledged him with a low hum and a nod.

They kept watching.Cayde squinted his eyes, dizzy from the camera switches.“Does that Titan have a pulse rifle??”

“Yup. Watch him.”

“You know this one?”

Banshee tilted his head a bit, studying the brief glimpses on the screen.“Mmm… high impact frame. Did that one.Handling mods added, shoddy seals, ‘prolly did that one ‘imself. Pretty cool perks though.Has some sort of tactical performance and environmental threat gauge linked to the rifle’s ‘munitions feed system.”

“Could you translate that into Hunter for me?”

“Gets you faster reloads after precision eliminations.”

“Ah. Yeah, yeah, that’s cool.”Cayde sat up now, propped on his hands, his Ace set down to the side.“This arena is cramped as all hell.Is that Titan seriously keeping the pulse rifle in this chaos?How’s he ever gonna get a guy at long enough range with everyone skippin’ close to each other like that?”

Banshee harrumphed, fixated on the screen, running unknown analyses in his brilliant encyclopedia of a mind. 

Cayde was really only interested in a match if he was 1) in it himself or 2) had some bets going, so he leaned back and his eyes wandered.

They fell to Banshee’s plain combat boots.Banshee’d probably had those things for like, a million years.A small exaggeration, but they certainly looked like they’d walked him to Europa and back.Banshee wore no armor plating - no greaves nor other reinforcements.As a civilian and an Exo, he generally didn’t need it, though last time Cayde dragged him out on a mission, Banshee didn’t even change.At the time, Cayde attributed it to his quiet confidence - Banshee’s guns spoke for him, one hundred percent. 

But now that he was looking - r _eally_ looking at those old boots - Cayde wondered if Banshee even had any other pairs.That would be _so him_ , too — putting everything into his guns and repairs for everyone else, neglecting his own comfort and protection.If Banshee acquired any armor in his dealings, he probably just gave it away to the first lucky Guardian to swing by afterward.

Cayde shook his head fondly, eyes traveling further up Banshee’s legs.Those baggy camo-printed pants - faded from time, patched and re-sewn in several places.It hit him that he hadn’t actually seen Banshee in any other pants.He recalled the layout of Banshee’s workshop and quarters - scattered ammo and components on every surface, but definitely no other clothes, hung up or on the floor.

Those shapeless drop-crotch pants and accent-less boots obscured Banshee’s strong frame.Only a lucky few had seen Banshee in action these days, who would know the agility and strength inherent in his unique design.Cayde privately thought whomever originally designed Banshee’s chassis must’ve played favorites.Shallow surface-scuffs aside, Banshee’s resilient materials and proprietary structure left him operating better than his age.All that power, hidden in drab old clothing.

The Hunter had a dumb idea.Like, a _really_ dumb idea.He knew he wasn’t going to be able to just forget about it, so Cayde now fully committed to this idiotic, useless and totally frivolous plan that Banshee probably wouldn’t even acknowledge. 

Cayde was gonna dress him up himself.His name wasn’t on the most popular shader set for nothin’.He’d love to give Banshee the chance to really show his assets, for once.And to be frank, he’d love to see what Banshee was hiding in plain sight.

Match decided, the screen was screaming with the cheers of the crowd - looking up, Cayde realized half the racket was the rabble in the Courtyard.Several Guardians were now crowding around the gunsmith booth, competing for Banshee’s attention.

"Yeah, I saw the feed.”Banshee replied to the nearest gushing Titan.“Number 23 doubled up so often it was hard to keep track. What'd you say his name was? Red-somethin'?"

“Redrix! Redrix-3!Could you believe those shots he landed right at the end? _Obliterated_ the other side!I’d love to try playing with something similar…”

Banshee was now fully distracted with the swarm of fanatical customers.Cayde stood up, stowed his half-maintained guns and slipped out the back door before Banshee could look back.

———

_"Yeah, I saw the feed. Number 23 doubled up so often it was hard to keep track. What'd you say his name was? Red somethin'?" —Banshee-44, “The Candidate” quest_

———

Cayde was the only passenger of his cabin on metro line B.B ran 24/7 between the Tower and a high-traffic market.During the daytime, the market catered to the citizens’ grocery and supply needs.At night, more unconventional wares were available: rare weapon components, scavenged alien armor, and plenty of unauthorized paraphernalia Cayde pretended not to see now that he was all Vanguard-official. 

He anonymized himself tonight with a winter-weight cloak and nondescript navy-shaded helmet.As his stop approached, the Hunter stood and smoothed the folds of the cloak towards his knees.He noticed movement from the cabin next door.That wasn’t unusual, but earlier he’d assumed he was the only one on the metro tonight.

The train stopped and the doors slid open.As Cayde stepped onto the platform, the other passenger disembarked urgently, the hem of their robes billowing ethereally about their fast-paced walk.Cayde couldn’t help but look over.The passenger was a capital-P Presence.About Cayde’s height, they carried broad, confident shoulders.The high-collared, warlock-leaning robes appeared to absorb the night and reflect back stars.Cayde stared - he’d never seen such luxurious-looking cloth. 

They stopped and looked about the station, catching Cayde mid-painfully-obvious-ogle. Cayde committed to his stare.The enigmatic figure donned a customized Astrocyte Verse helmet, face completely obscured by galactic reflections.

After a beat, the figure nodded politely and looked back towards the exit.A sign above them directed foot traffic eastward for the market.After a pause, they resumed their warpath towards the market.

Well, shit, Cayde didn’t want to look like he was following them or anything… although, what was he worried about?More than one person was allowed to head to a huge public market at a time, even in the dead of night to its black market. And what if that person was following _him_ , throwing him off the trail by heading towards the obvious destination?Cayde’d better counter-act by keeping tabs on this one. 

This was in no way an excuse to keep following Tall Dark and Sexy, but if he happened to find out more of their deal, he certainly wouldn’t complain.He was here tonight for two reasons.One, to shop for Banshee’s new duds.Two, to stretch his legs a little while sleepless and off-duty; see what he’d been missing while trapped on the Tower.He could certainly kill two harpies with one shot.

Cayde hung back to let the assumed-Warlock get further down the corridor.The star-dotted folds of their robes, draping from a snugly fitted waist, winked back at Cayde with each step, teasing him to follow.

After exiting the station, Cayde’s target walked under the nearest street light and pulled out a datapad from an inner chest pocket.Under the direct light, the folds of the robes settled and melted solid, eerily unreflective as the furthest edge of Sol.Their wearer appeared to query a map, zooming in and out with elegant flicks above the screen.Their intricate gauntlets blinked with each hand movement.Cayde was entranced by the dance of delicate, skilled fingers.

Wow, he didn’t normally get this smitten over random strangers.It _had_ been awhile since his last intimate misadventure, but he hadn’t really focused on it; _he had shit to do_.He decided to act.

“Need directions, friend?” Cayde approached from just behind his target, looking over their shoulder to confirm a map on the screen.The figure startled slightly, but held their ground and looked towards him.Cayde was so close, if his helmet were off, the yellow glow from his mouth would have reflected against the trim of their helmet. 

The cloth of the robe was more haunting up close, as if it would absorb all the Solar light within Cayde if he got too close.The Hunter took one half-step back while gesturing towards the datapad screen.“You’re lookin’ for the energy vendors.Those pretty robes of yours hungry, or what?”

The joke fell flat.The void-helmet stared back, then turned back towards the pad, obscured by the dramatically high warlock collar.

That wasn’t very enthusiastic, but they didn’t move away either.Cayde reached and pressed a gentle palm on their elbow.Solidly armored, an Exo too, he noted.That slightly justified the kindred attachment he felt.“I can point you in the right direction, if you don’t mind a lil’ company.”He winked one cyan-bright eye.Oh yeah… the helmet.

The seconds of hesitation felt extended.Cayde was just about to take several steps back and apologize and pretend he totally thought they were someone else, when the figure nodded.They stored their data pad, gesturing openly.

Cayde gave a luminous smile, though still his partner couldn’t see it, and signaled their shared direction.The figure took two careful steps before falling in line with Cayde’s pace.Now he noticed the heavier stride indicative of an Exo, though the stellar armored boots helped dampen some of the weight.

The two eventually turned into a covered alley where the first few booths sold semi-legitimate wares with enough plausible deniability.The Warlock found this path more familiar, and caught up to walk side-by-side Cayde.Guiding his partner, Cayde brushed the back of his fingers gently against an impossibly dark sleeve.The material felt unsettlingly soft - like his fingers would be swallowed up by static clouds.

“So y’know,” Cayde broke their calm silence.“I’m shopping for a buddy of mine.Lookin’ to get ‘im some new digs.Mind tellin’ me where those pretty robes of yours are from?” He brushed the sleeve again, thrilling in the inviting texture.“And _what_ they’re of?Never seen nothin’ like this.” 

They looked down at the sleeve Cayde’d touched, as if looking for a mark left.“… ‘re special.”A low voice.A little distorted and tin-canny from the helmet, but a low, _sexy_ voice. _Uh_ oh.

“I can see that!” Cayde said.But that wasn’t very helpful at all.“Must be one of a kind.A gift?Somethin’ special from a special someone?”

His partner looked forward, bee-lining ahead towards their destination.“Somethin’ like that.”

At the end of this particular hall was the largest vendor of custom-built energy reactors and generators.Nobody asked where the shop got their supply of condensed Solar, Arc and Void, let alone how they managed to stabilize it into their proprietary reactors.As a matter of fact, Cayde had picked up the odd order for Banshee from here before.

The booth lead, an outgoing Awoken auntie, strode up to greet the pair.“Welcome back, love.” With both wrinkled hands, she grasped the midnight-soaked gauntlets of Cayde’s new friend.So they were a regular customer - or perhaps more well known around these parts.Cayde must be pretty out of it. “We’ve just finished packing your order.Of course, you had priority to reserve these - you won’t believe how many many I’ve had to turn away today, you understand.”

“Appreciate it.”The warlock squeezed the vendor’s hands back with gratitude and let her go.Smiling, she turned towards Cayde and appraised him.

“And the brains brought some brawn today!”After a motherly pat to Cayde’s biceps, she gestured them both towards the back of the shop.“Good.The stabilizers for these reactors make the boxes a _little_ heavy.”

They followed her in step.“I got brains too…” Cayde mumbled with good nature.His friend looked towards him for a long second.

There were four boxes total - dense as promised, not too bulky.They split them two-and-two between, arms full, balancing the boxes against their chests.

On the way out, the Warlock paused and considered the vendor.“One more request…” They set the boxes down to retrieve the datapad.After a quick query, the vendor acked the screen and disappeared into the back room.Cayde looked curiously at the Warlock, but they didn’t look back over their high collar.

The vendor returned with a plainly-wrapped package, about the size of the datapad itself.“These are increasingly rare, you know.” She arched an eyebrow, tucking the package into the Warlock’s coat with warm familiarity.“Getting more and more dangerous for our scouts to acquire, in Taken territory.”

“I’m good for it.”The Warlock affirmed. “Add to my tab.Thanks.”Boxes scooped back up, the pair exited.

It was a companionable silence back to the station before Cayde finally offered.“I can help take these back to your place. With you.If you like.Not to impose.”He could _feel_ Sundance rolling her eye in her pocket dimension.

“Sure,” the Warlock seemed indifferent.Cayde decided, he didn’t promise Banshee anything yet, he could plot his brilliant seduction trap and subsequent date night another evening.

When they were already halfway back, sitting together on the otherwise empty train, the Warlock turned to him, the first conversation they’d initiated that night.“Did you… you needed something back there, right?”

“No big deal.I can go another night.”

“I can help you.In return.”They patted the boxes tucked around their arm on the next seat.

“It’s alright.” Cayde stretched his arms outward with a theatric yawn.“It’s getting late.” He settled one arm along the back of the seats, his elbow resting against the Warlock’s collar.The silken gravity of the collar pulled his arm close.

The Warlock leaned forward to rest elbows on knees, disengaging their brief friendly contact.“I know what you’re thinking.There’s other ways to keep the night going.But I’d like you to help me a little bit more first.”

Cayde shivered, an electric nudge up his spine.He felt properly mollified - and intrigued. 

They had the Tower walkways and lifts to themselves.In the last lift, the Warlock punched in a high floor request with their elbow, shifting their stacked boxes slightly.The lift passed the living quarters floors and alighted at the main hangar.

“We takin’ these to your ship or somethin’?” Cayde finally asked.

“Nah.Got my workshop up here.Hope you don’t mind some stairs.Fastest way to get there.”

“… _Banshee?”_ Cayde blurted out and almost dropped his share of the boxes.

“Yes?” That nebulous visage finally looked his way.“Is there a problem? Sorry, I’ve got this thing.”

Cayde internally debated settling the boxes down, taking the helmet off, and having a good jolly laugh once his friend caught up to the whole situation with him.He honestly thought about it for a few good seconds. 

Then Cayde decided it would be more fun this way.Two harpies ’n all.

“Nah, you’re just famous.” It wasn’t a lie, really.“Been to your shop a few times.A pleasure.”

“... Yeah.”Banshee was cordial, almost regal in those brilliant robes.Where in Sol did he _get_ those?

As they ascended the hangar stairs, Banshee opened up, none-the-wiser to his partner.“You know that game today?I can barely keep up with the Pulse Rifle orders now that 23 is showing off so much.”

“Ah, these are for those?” Cayde bumped his chin against his stack of boxes.

“Yeah.Building a prototype for Shaxx.A little Crucible incentive for you Guardians.”They reached the top of the skyway.A Tower guard nodded towards the both of them as she passed.Banshee set his pair of boxes down.“You can leave them here.Have some frames that can get ‘em into the workshop.”

Cayde followed suit.He felt exposed despite the helmet and cloak.“You uh, said you could use some more help.”He stood up straight, leaned close and tugged at a decorative loop on Banshee’s robes, counting on all of his charm to carry him through this.“Well, at your service.”

Banshee looked at him, considering, all swirling shadows and mystery.Cayde’s mechanical heartbeat drowned out his audio feed.He had no clue what Banshee may ask of a flirtatious stranger in the dead of night in circumstances like these.He was already parsing that he didn’t know Banshee as well as he thought.

Banshee finally spoke, all business.“The prototype.Modeling it after that Redrix-3.I need some telemetry.How good’s his aim?Test him out and get back to me.”Banshee pressed a small metrics console into Cayde’s palm.

That was Banshee’s vendor voice.Cayde was very grateful the helmet could hide his schoolboy-grade disappointment.“Yes, Sir,I can get that for you.” 

Before he could retract his hand, Banshee clasped it with both luxurious gauntlets, enclosing the telemetry module.

“You do that for me.Then come see me at the workshop tomorrow night.Wear something easy to take off.”

Well _that_ was not the vendor voice, and _that_ scrambled Cayde’s processors like he’d stood out of the shade on Mercury.He nodded dumbly, watching Tall, Dark and Banshee leave.

“Sundance, _did you know?_ ”

———

_“I can barely keep up with the Pulse Rifle orders now that 23 is showing off so much. But how good's his aim? Test him out and get back to me." —Banshee-44, “Dead is Dead” quest_

———

Some old research discovered on Mars awhile back confirmed that Exos were specifically programmed to want to eat, sleep, and fuck, like humans.It was Braytech’s morally-questionable solution to delay the mind’s eventual rejection of the Exo body. 

This had blown shockwaves of sensationalist discourse throughout the Last City.Exos questioned the integrity of their free will, second-guessing their control over their own humanity.Eventually, a spiritual belief normalizing the programming to human instinct gained popularity. 

Cayde tried not to think too hard about the roots of all that and what it meant for himself.He had his own big questions, and a system-wide interspecies war to help end.So he figured, if he decided to do something, he must genuinely feel like doing it.There was a freedom in committing to that.

That’s what he was telling himself, over and over, as he paced qrestlessly on the open-air Crucible platform. Something honest and raw in him wanted to see Banshee tonight, genuinely wanted to do whatever it’d take to impress him.

Cayde held the telemetry console up to the noontime sun with two fingers as if it’d fry the little thing.He _could_ go back to Banshee, disguised: “Oh no sir, seems I need a new one, but also, all the matches for the day seem to be over — can I still see you tonight?” 

Even his fantasies in his head were against him.He imagined Banshee perma-banning him from the entire Tower for destruction of borrowed property. 

The Gunsmith didn’t even _have_ that authority…

Cayde also briefly considered paying someone else off to get the numbers for him, but he didn’t want to blow his chances tonight in case Banshee was able to tell the numbers weren’t genuine. 

Which got him spiraling on another pretty important thing: Banshee had never spoken to Cayde like _that._ Cayde was secure enough to admit that realization made him _very_ insecure.What was it about Sir Hunter Anonymous that Banshee would proposition _him_ over just one night, all dressed like _that_ , whereas Cayde had known and supported (and imposed on) (and secretly loved) Banshee for _years_ and never got anything _close_ to that kind of invite?

If Cayde did make it over tonight - at what point would he reveal himself?If clothes were coming off, he’d be literally exposed - should that be the moment he says something? _Heeey Banshee, uh, it’s me! Surprise?_ Or should he end the jig earlier? Cayde wasn’t into tricking Banshee into intimacy, per se. But all signs so far pointed to Banshee having no interest _like that_ in regular-ass-Cayde…

He wanted to see more of this spicy side of Banshee he merely glimpsed last night.It honestly broke his heart a little that his best friend hadn’t shown him before.How often did Banshee go out like that?Where did those clothes come from?He confirmed it was “someone special”… was Banshee that private, or was Cayde that occupied with work?Was there someone else in Banshee’s life?

Was he a bad friend? 

Or was he not good enough?

The Hunter shook his head in an attempt to stop his mental voidsplosion. First things first - kick some asses at the Crucible, get some telemetry off that Redrix-3.Side bonus: work some of that mounting frustration out.He’d worry about timing the truth, and charming the socks (and everything else) off his old friend, after he’d secured his ticket over.

Cayde walked up to the Crucible kiosk to add his fake name to the queue, noticing Redrix was signed up for all of the day’s matches.Shaxx, looming nearby, immediately saw through Cayde’s pseudonym.The Titan’s hard stare burned through both their helmets.Damn their gossipy Ghosts to hell!

“I cannot fathom what you are up to,” Shaxx’s voice was, for once, menacingly quiet.“But I will be watching you.Specifically.” 

“I’ll give you a good show!” Cayde spun on his heel in search of a space as far away from the Crucible handler as possible.Seriously, he tried cheating _once_ to test out Tower-sourced cybersecurity — that was his story in the Vanguard reports, anyway.He certainly didn’t have to cheat to win otherwise.

Once the upcoming round filled, Shaxx called the competing teams together into a huddle. Cayde hung back just far enough away to not disqualify himself.At a similar distance, Redrix faced toward the group, looking pretty banged up for an Exo.

“Yes, it’s true. The Gunsmith is building a prototype.”Shaxx announced with full theater.Cayde took one step closer to the huddle.“And I can see the lot of you _salivating_ at the chance to wield it.”A dramatic pause.“I can think of only one way to choose who deserves that opportunity.”

“Whoever murders Redrix the most?” A Warlock volunteered.A snickering pair of Hunters looked back at Redrix, whom avoided all their eyes.

“Close, rookie!Whoever murders _like_ Redrix the most!Our boy is breaking records with his Claymore!”Shaxx strode through the huddle and clapped Redrix aggressively on the shoulder.The young star buckled slightly under the combined weight of Shaxx’s ham-hock palm and his own exhaustion.Shaxx turned back to the eager crew.“Whoever hits a 200 killcount with a pulse rifle first - the Gunsmith and I will _consider_ you for the first shot… of the prototype.Ha!”

There was some groaning - people had their loadout preferences for the Crucible, and the more common pulse rifles generally weren’t it.And two _hundred_ final blows?Well, at least that gave Banshee some time to iterate on the prototype.Cayde clipped the telemetry unit onto the base of Ace — he had his own bounty from Banshee.

The departing teams walked together towards the Hangar.Crossing the Courtyard, Cayde looked over his shoulder to spy on Banshee at work.The dedicated Gunsmith had a break from customers and was busy in the back of his booth, programming a model into his CNC machine.The usual screen was turned to the game, counting down to the nextmatch.

Cayde’s stomach may be mechanical, but he felt it twist.Banshee would be watching - maybe even looking for him.Disguised-him.Was this part of how Banshee evaluated his interests?How they could handle a gun?Well, it made sense.And Cayde would certainly like to show him he knew his way in and around and all over any piece.

Cayde faced forward and bumped into a shuffling Redrix.The normally fresh-faced Titan appeared drained of all energy.An idea struck him.Cayde moved to Redrix’s side and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, guiding him to slow down and gain some distance from the rest of the competitors.He had to reach upwards a little to really envelop the Titan’s broad, armored shoulders, but Redrix obeyed.

“So what’s Shaxx paying you for all this?” Not-Cayde asked, low.

Redrix snorted, a rude burst of static.“He calls it training.For my own betterment.”

Cayde hummed.“I call it using you.He gets your pretty face in there, allows you a few lucky shots, he gets lots more viewers and future fodder for his little games.”

“They are _not_ just lucky shots,” Redrix was offended.“I’m working my ass off out there.”

“Hey hey, I get it!” Cayde released his shoulders but kept their sides brushing.“You earned your ranking.You deserve to be our star.You also deserve to be paid for your work.”

“Sure, but what am I gonna do? Ask Shaxx for a raise from _zero_ glimmer?”Redrix mocked.

“I’ll cut to the chase.You know how our favorite Hunter Vanguard allegedly bets on the Crucible?”

“Allegedly.”

“Let’s say our most handsome Hunter Vanguard would give you access to one of his secret treasure caches if you phoned this particular match in.”

“Huh, why?” Redrix scoffed.“Betting on me losing?”

“I’m here to make sure you do.”

“ _You_ think you can beat me.” Redrix eyed Not-Cayde up and down, particularly judgmental of the Hunter’s thin, leather-gilded armor.

“I know I can.Just warning you.”To seal the deal, Cayde walked ahead without listening for Redrix’s reply.

It was a short hop from the Tower Hangar to the match arena in the EDZ.To Cayde’s relief for his last-minute plan, he and Redrix were assigned to opposing teams.As the match countdown played on all feeds, Cayde hunkered towards a vulnerably open set of ruins.

The Clash match started.Redrix, in his emotional exhaustion, had taken the bait.He’d specifically sought out Cayde to punish him for his dare, charging from behind the single wall left of the crumbled building.But Cayde was anticipating this, counting on a tired young Guardian’s predictable mistakes. 

He drew his Ace, clicked the telemetry console on, whirled a 180 and ducked sideways in one dance-like motion.He aimed and fired towards the exposed end of the wall, about head-height.A series of pulse bullets chirped inches above him in answer.Cayde’s whipping cloak obscured his body from a second line of pulse shots as his knee hit the ground. 

He fired again towards the direction of the wall edge and heard the sickening hiss of a fatally cracked helmet.Without bothering to confirm Redrix’s crumpling body, Cayde sprinted to the other side of the building ruins.Redrix would revive soon enough.

The Titan was back within the minute and already sloppy.Cayde only had to hear the crash of his boots on the exposed floor above him to aim Ace up towards the sound.He heard Redrix cry out and stomp away for cover.Another series of pulse bullets whizzed past Cayde and singed the ground.Hiding in a nook on the bottom floor, Cayde checked the telemetry unit.Good, it was recording.He shook his head.Terrible aim, that one.

Hmm, if the metrics he got on Redrix ended up being nothing to write home about, would Banshee throw it all out the window and just send Cayde home before the night even got interesting?

Three hot successive bullets melted Cayde’s brain.Sundance revived him outside the building, a silent chide for getting distracted.Oh, Cayde wasn’t going to let baby boy enjoy that cheap win.Some other Guardian from the opposing team took a shot at Cayde through the trees.He dispatched them easily and ran back into the building. 

Everyone was likely using pulse rifles, so everyone was probably terrible.Not that Cayde needed the handicap, of course.He ran through the broken stones of old Europe in search of his target.

The relative silence was cut by approaching beeps.He dodged a too-close pair of arc grenades by ducking and rolling into an enclosed ground-floor room.Bad choice - there was only one opening to this room, and Redrix waited within. 

The Titan scooped Cayde up from the floor in a chokehold, his charged fist buzzing electric by the ear of Cayde’s helmet.Cayde swung his legs violently, feet missing purchase — he was too far from the ground.He tried to swing his legs upwards to flip over Redrix’s head, but Redrix’s thick elbow held Cayde’s chassis rigid against him.

“Pay me.” Redrix whispered.He must have counted on the lack of cameras in this small room to have this conversation.“I’ll let you have what you want, and you give me what I want.”

“Deal’s off, I can get what I want anyway.” Cayde baited.Redrix’s fist crackled next to him, a searing threat.Cayde struggled to twist his arm and aim his gun point-blank at the body behind him, but Redrix moved around wildly enough to discourage the shot.

“You need my telemetry for Banshee.You’re not the first asshole to try and get me alone.”

Cayde’s heart sank a little.How many of these bounties did Banshee hand out?

“We’ve only got five minutes left.Pay me, and I’ll transfer my day’s metrics to your module directly.”

“That’s it?”Cayde faked a choking rasp.Redrix loosened his hold a little to let Cayde’s boots touch the ground, his supercharged arc energy fizzling back into his bracers.He used his newly freed fist to restrain Cayde’s shootin’ arm.

“And guard me. Let me nap.”Redrix sounded raw and desperate in Cayde’s ear.“Just five minutes.I’ll take that.”

“Deal, friend.”Cayde let Sundance transmat his gun away to prove his honesty.

Redrix let him go entirely and collapsed on the ground, a pile of exhausted armor, back against the stone wall.Cayde turned and regarded his target.The lights of Redrix’s eyes were already out.Idiot, gullible kinderguardian.

But Cayde wasn’t bloodthirsty.He called his Ace back into his hand and stood watch at the narrow entrance while Sundance arranged the telemetry transfer with Redrix’s equally-worn-out Ghost.No one else passed the room for the duration of the match.Not-Cayde and Redrix closed out the match with their worst personal Crucible records yet.

Cayde didn’t stick around the arena long enough to hear all of Shaxx’s lecture to Redrix over the virtues of a visible hero and how back in his day, nobody got to hide from battle (the cameras) when they were tired.Just as he took his first step up his jumpship’s ramp, he heard a slow-jogging jangle of armor behind him.

Redrix caught up to him, tagging his shoulder with a loose palm.“Thanks, Mr. Cayde, that actually helped.”He saluted lazily and jogged back towards the next queue of players.

_He could tell this whole time?!_

Back on the the Tower, Cayde sent the coordinates of a Cosmodrome cache he didn’t care about into Redrix’s mail-feed.He then crashed in his own quarters, a ball of solar-singed nerves, to attempt some semblance of rest before tonight.

———

_“Yes, it’s true. The Gunsmith is building a prototype.And I can see the lot of you salivating at the chance to wield it.I can think of only one way to choose who deserves that opportunity.” — Lord Shaxx, “Forging the Broadsword” bounty_

———

It was closing time.Under the night sky, the Traveler’s reflection lit the Tower Courtyard bright as day.The vendors were busily winding down their affairs.

Cayde had decided to keep last night’s helmet and lush navy cloak, freshly ironed.Specifically for the evening, he chose a well -fitted synth-leather vest and brushed wool ankle pants.Some vestigial instinct in him triggered a buzz below his eyes, remembering Banshee’s sultry command: “Wear something easy to take off.” The memory of that rumbling voice echoed and doubled and tripled in his brain.

Cayde stood conspicuously at the Vault-side of the Courtyard, lit by the glow of Rahool’s tent-thing.There was the Banshee he knew at his booth, bare-faced and bare-threaded in his usual muted garb.Cayde recalled the first domino that crescendoed into this current misadventure.He’d thought a little bit too hard about what Banshee could look like with some different clothes, and then with no clothes at all, and now he was here, inexplicably shy of seeing his own best friend that he’d otherwise talked to every other damned day like it was nothing.

Banshee looked up from the final checks of his inventory log, dismissing the screen without looking.He looked pleased.“You’re back.”

“’Course I am!”Not-Cayde ambled over, arms wide open as if he’d crush Banshee into a sensational hug.With the desk between them, the Hunter stopped and, after a beat, dropped his arms awkwardly to his sides.“Couldn’t wait.”

Banshee stood still, politely waiting for his visitor to continue.

“Uh,”Cayde stalled.He grasped at his belt to retrieve the finalized telemetry console.He placed it gently on the datapad in front of Banshee.

Banshee picked it up, eyeing his visitor with a skeptical stare.“Huh?I don’t remember asking you to do this.”

Cayde’s insides felt like going to his outsides.

Banshee shrugged. “Oh, well.Everything helps, I guess.Thanks for your hard work.”He unceremoniously placed the telemetry console amongst a pile of its equally nondescript siblings on his desk.

“Banshee,”Cayde said a little too quickly.Banshee looked back up sharply, and Cayde winced.Still, he made sure to grab _his_ console off the pile before they lost track of it.“This here’s the data you asked me for last night, to help with your prototype.”Banshee nodded, but Cayde assumed he should keep going, directly handing him the console this time.“We spoke of… forging the broadsword.”

“Oh!” Banshee startled almost imperceptibly.“Ohhhh.Yeah.Thanks.”He looked past Cayde’s shoulders surreptitiously, adroitly twirling the console back and forth between his polished orange fingers."Got somethin' in my workshop that I want you to have. Ain't a gun… You go on up to my workshop, take a look at it. See if you like it.”

Cayde felt a whirring rush behind his eyes, like the malfunctioning fan of a pre-Golden Age personal computer.“I’ll meet you there too, yeah?”

“Sure.”Banshee was already engrossed in his data pad, queuing up open tasks.After a long beat, he mumbled absent-mindedly, “…tell ya where the secret entrance is…” 

Cayde nodded acknowledgment and turned to rush back through the Courtyard before Banshee noticed anything off.

———

_ "Got somethin' in my workshop that I want you to have. Ain't a gun… You go on up to my workshop, take a look at it. See if you like it. Cayde'll tell ya where the secret entrance is." — Banshee-44; Make Bows, Not War _

———

Cayde took the _secret_ -secret entrance to Banshee’s workshop, which involved a little more jumpin’ around than Banshee was usually up for when they went there together.It got him there more quickly, so he’d have more time to settle in and strategize.He _really_ wanted to see what Banshee had waiting for not-him.What kind of night was this wild Banshee planning?

The Hunter ascended the ramp into the middle of the dimly-lit workshop.It was as he’d last seen it - gun components scattered on every available surface, an apparent mess, but actually meticulously organized to the Gunsmith’s eyes.Ages ago, Banshee developed an effectively encrypted mechanism for navigating his available parts in lieu of a reliable short-term memory.Cayde learned real fast not to touch any of it.

The nearest couch was open, however.Cayde removed his winter cloak and sank into the low-rise seat.A simply wrapped package slid towards him, bumping his wool-trousered thigh.He picked it up gently.The wrapping was a gorgeous sheet of spinmetal printed with a textural pattern of reflective prisms.Etched into the foil-like sheet: an apparent part number.On closer glance:

_“B-44.4.C-6”_

Cayde almost dropped the package.This was for him!Banshee didn’t mention working on something for him the other day.Cayde was pretty sure his made-up nameday wasn’t coming up anytime soon - and the bulk of Earth holidays had already passed for this trip around Sol.

Should he open it now? Or wait for Banshee to properly give it to him when he met up with him as regular-Cayde?Maybe it’d get brought up over the course of the night once the truth was out… though he was dying to know what this was _now_!Would Banshee be offended if his new friend took a quick peek?Yeah, probably, that was pretty rude, and he’d slap rifle the guy who dared open _his_ special package from Banshee.But…

Cayde mashed his fingers to feel around the soft parcel, noting it was about the length and width of his forearm.Definitely not a gun.It felt like one firm entity, but malleable.He traced the small inscription on the wrapping, picturing Banshee delicately carving the letters with his careful precision.He wanted to save it.

“Open it.”Banshee’s deep rumble surprised the light out of Cayde.

“Oh hi, uh, but this is for…”

Banshee sat down close to Cayde, his left side pressed fully against Cayde’s right.Still dressed in his usual uniform, he likely came straight from work. “I’m glad you came over tonight.”He spoke over Cayde’s sputtering.

Cayde registered the warm pressure of Banshee next to him and quieted.He catalogued the feeling with hopes of recalling it later whenever he wanted.Banshee reached close and rested his left hand over the package Cayde still held in his lap, grazing Cayde’s thumbs.

“Been thinking about you all day, wondering how you might like this.” Banshee started.

“I uh, very much like it already.”Cayde stared down at their hands in his lap, wondering where to start.How to tell him he’d been thinking about this for years.Banshee tilted his head, seemingly confused.

“I still have to show you, though.” Banshee tried.

“You can show me anything.” Cayde looked up and stared earnestly at Banshee’s open, gentle expression.More confusion.Cayde started to worry over his friend.Was Banshee forgetting things as they were happening to him?

“Hmm.Here, then.Let me do the honors.” Banshee tried again.Cayde stared directly into Banshee’s earnest eyes, helmet obscuring his own likely-wild ones.They were so close to each other.If Cayde’s helmet were off, he’d just have to tip his forehead slightly and their mouths could click and connect…

Banshee reached for the gift in Cayde’s lap to take it back.He then broke eye contact to look down, delicately unwrapping his own gift.

“Banshee, there’s something I have to tell you.” Cayde said, words jumbling

“One thing at a time.” Banshee chided, head down.His gentle fingers loosened the spinmetal foil to preserve his embossed work.He then looked up and stroked a hand along the deep neckline of the synth-leather vest Cayde wore.“Can you take this off for me?”

“Yessir.” Cayde’s hands were already loosening the clasps of the vest, squashing down his indignation that not-Cayde was getting to see whatever Banshee had made for Cayde.Banshee continued spooling the foil away from the flexible contents.

Vest off and set aside on the couch arm behind him, Cayde looked towards Banshee.He felt pretty naked in more ways than one.

“I’d like you to try this on for me.” Banshee asked innocently, standing.He unfurled the soft cloth within the package - it was a beautiful upper-armor set - an intricate Hunter’s vest attached to a dramatic space-black cloak.It was the same stellar material Banshee wore to the market last night, yet fashioned after a Hunter’s apparel needs.The hems of the aerodynamic cloak brushed the floor between Banshee and Cayde’s boots. “Are you going to take your helmet off, Cayde?”

Cayde’s jaw was working up and down inside the helmet, looking between the fabulous robes and his unfazed friend.“N-now wait a sec, when did you know it was me?”

Banshee kept his arms out, letting the cloak and vest drip down and loosen its own wrinkles.The folds swayed eerily, absorbing the low ambient light.Cayde finally parsed what the material reminded him of - like staring into a Taken-infected portal, made beautiful and tamed into a fabric. 

“How could I not know you, Cayde?”The Gunsmith asked, seemingly more confused.

“Last night!” Cayde accused, ripping his helmet off anticlimactically.

“Last night… we met at the market, right?” Banshee confirmed.

“But... you didn’t say anything!”Cayde was standing up now, shirtless and unsure of what to do with his hands.Banshee only slightly lowered his own arms, to avoid settling too much of the cloak’s tails on the dusty floor.

“We said lots of things.You liked my robes.Remember?” The light of Banshee’s serious cyan eyes reflected directly into Cayde’s fierce ones.It was rare for Banshee to remind someone else of a shared memory.He laughed to himself. “Though, I don’t remember where I first got those robes from… Thought I’d get a set together for you.”

Cayde continued to work his jaw up and down, yellow mouth light blinking in and out as he unsuccessfully puzzled his senses together.

“Saw you in one of the Crucible games today, too.”Banshee looked back at his own hands, soaked in the inviting cloth.“Tried estimating your measurements through the screen.Then you went off-camera.Next time, just gonna ask you for them.”He slowly approached ‘round to Cayde’s side. 

“Arms out.” Banshee ordered.Cayde obeyed.Banshee’s smooth knuckles grazed Cayde’s arm as the first shoulder piece of the vest was brought to Cayde’s collar - another intimate touch the Hunter reveled and privately catalogued.Banshee continued circling behind him, guiding Cayde’s other arm into the remaining sleeve. 

Cayde felt dizzy as Banshee’s chest pressed close to Cayde’s back.Banshee smoothed the generously luxurious sleeves along Cayde’s extended arms, gently pushing them back down to a relaxed position.He caught each of Cayde’s hands in his own.

“Looks like it fits so far.”He lifted Cayde’s hands up to the front. “Clasp it as you like, and I’ll fix your collar.”

It was both newly intimate and warmly familiar to be with Banshee like this.Banshee adjusted the collar of the cloak around Cayde’s exposed neck as Cayde buttoned up the fitted vest.Despite Banshee’s doubts, both pieces were expertly tailored and fit perfectly.Banshee tenderly brought the cowl up over the top of Cayde’s head, knowing the way he treasured wearing Andal’s cloak.

“The vendor last night.” Banshee started as he circled the rest of the way around to face Cayde, eyeing him up and down.“She only had a little bit of this fabric left.Somethin’ about it being too dangerous to harvest from the Taken.Don’t even know how they got the threads to stabilize as a fabric.Might not wanna wear this _too_ often, who knows if cloth can get corrupted - or corrupt.”

“It feels amazing.” Cayde was honest.

“I know.” Banshee was proud.“Used most of my robes to fashion the rest of the cloak for you.Hope it works out for ya.”

There was the Banshee he loved - devoted and hard-working and overgenerous to a fault.Cayde wasn’t sure how many ways to say ‘You shouldn’t have,’ so he asked instead: “When did you even have time to work on this in the last - what - 20 hours?”He couldn’t stop running his fingers over and over against opposite silken sleeves.

“On and off today.Needed breaks from that prototype.Honestly.Can’t believe the Guardians are so gaga over some kid’s pulse rifle… Just thinking about working on it puts me to sleep.”

And there was his best friend. Despite his Exo features, Banshee exuded cheeky mirth.Cayde wrapped his arms around Banshee’s shoulders, pulling him into a close hug he’d been saving for way too long.“Thanks, Banshee.”

“Mmm.”Banshee rumbled appreciatively, arms embracing him back.Cayde felt the resonance in his own chest.Looking in front of him, he found his face buried in Banshee’s paper-thin green scarf.

“You got any other fashion statements hiding in this workshop, friend?Gotta admit, I rather liked seeing you in something different last night.”He broke the hug to face Banshee directly.

“Thought you’d rather see me in nothing last night,”Banshee countered with an arc-electric stare.Cayde wondered if his new cloak might help him out and swallow him whole, Light and all.

———

_ “The best-dressed Exo this side of Saturn” - Cayde’s Duds shader _


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Small epilogue since I'm still not over the mystery of the Brass Attacks sidearm lore. Warning, exo-kisses.

It was a stunning gun. No surprise, coming from Banshee, but he really outdid himself with the Brass Attacks sidearm. Cayde-6 held the gift with gentle hands and wished he could weep, to give the gun the dramatic appreciation it deserved. 

Banshee-44 was toe-to-toe with Cayde, his metal brow tipped forward and resting intimately against Cayde’s horn. One confident hand cradled one of Cayde’s against the gun, the other ran fine-polished metal fingers over the brass-plated barrel. The gold shine of the plating looked so rich, that crazy Cabal emperor would have sent legions after the gun had he known of its existence.

They were alone in the workshop. Cayde was fresh off work and donned his traditional worn-leather Hunter attire. Banshee’d had the day off. He’d listened to Cayde, and had put on “something comfortable” - a vintage Braytech researcher’s set gifted by Dr. Ana Bray from her Mars adventures. Cayde had a hard time choosing between ogling the gun over his best friend in front of him.

“If looks could kill,” Banshee looked directly into Cayde’s digital eyes, catching him mid-leer. “You wouldn’t even have to aim this thing.”

Cayde held the stare, the glow on his cheek-plates twinkling. “No other man more deserving to be so proud of his work.” They both looked back down towards the Brass, Cayde still in awe. His sensitive fingertip grazed and read the trigger, where Banshee had inscribed his dedication - B-44.4.C-6. “You’ve spoiled me, Banshee.”

Banshee matched the gentle stroke, dragging his fingertips against the notches of the Picatinny rail. “Custom-machined. Tell me what you wanna mount on, I’ll make you the rings.”

Cayde simulated an impressed whistle. “I’m just overwhelmed with the possibilities, honestly.” He flipped the gun over in his hand, the other side just as immaculate. “You ever make a gun what feels too perfect to be used? This feels like one.”

“Please use it. S’for you.” Banshee insisted. Their nose bridges were close, warmed from proximity. “And you can thank me anytime.”

They had danced long enough around the late nights and generous gifts and meaningful looks and suggestive gun handling. Cayde finally knew when to go in for the kiss. He leaned forward and pressed his lips earnestly against Banshee’s, the silicone edge of his top lip buzzing electric from soft pressure. The capacitive plate of Banshee’s lower mouthpiece sent a sensitive charge through their shared kiss. 

Cayde smoothly stowed his gift in a hip-side holster and leaned fully into Banshee. He grasped hard at both of Banshee’s firm biceps, digging fingers into the insulated robes like a lifeline. Banshee gave a low, pleased chuckle and gently grasped the back of Cayde’s arms, locking him close.

“Been thinking about this.” Cayde delicately dragged his lips against a smooth edge of Banshee’s cheek. “Waiting.”

“Same.” Banshee said simply, tenderly. He leaned into Cayde’s nuzzle, reveling in the soft laps of Light emanating from Cayde’s kisses. It felt healing, restorative in a way the Gunsmith could never know otherwise.

Cayde leaned back a little too abruptly. “You coulda kissed me anytime first, you know!” He failed to keep the petulance out of his voice.

“Hrrm. Maybe. Wanted to earn it.” Banshee chased Cayde’s lips and connected them again. “More fun this way.”

“I’m plenty fun any kind of way. All kinds of ways.” Cayde said through the warm glow of the kiss. He spread his stance to more stably support Banshee as their subsequent kisses melted into each other.

“Just remembered something.” Banshee said, low and intimate. Cayde knew this was a rare enough event to give him space to recall, leaning back patiently. “When we met at the market. You were shopping for an outfit. For a friend, you said.”

“I meant for you,” Cayde admitted.

“To be honest.” Banshee’s glowing eyes emanated mischief. His skilled fingers traced a plated cord of muscle from Cayde's ear down to his collarbone. “Don’t care so much about clothes. But I know my way around fine metal designs. Why don’t you show me yours?”

———

“If looks could kill, you wouldn’t even have to aim this thing.” — Banshee-44, “Brass Attacks” sidearm

**Author's Note:**

> The "Forging the Broadsword" quote from Shaxx's crucible bounties always sounds so horny to me. This silly thing came out - please don't take it too seriously. :) I saw the new Season of the Chosen lore with the “part number”, my heart shattered, and I finally finished this.
> 
> I didn't want to tag directly to pressure anyone into reading, but this is a gift/thanks for KaidaShade. Since "The Banshee's Gamble" I've been obsessed with the idea of Banshee in warlock robes - thank you for the generous food. :)


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